


a taut line

by prowlish



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Fingerfucking, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 22:23:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7951471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prowlish/pseuds/prowlish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you keep winding and winding... eventually the tension will break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a taut line

**Author's Note:**

> please ignore the terrible title, a title was literally the only thing keeping me from posting this for HOURS.........
> 
> anyway some quick dratchets that I wrote as a birthday present to myself. yay!

Drift hanging around the medibay wasn’t an uncommon sight; in fact, he’d grown comfortable with this. Hanging around Ratchet, teasing him with verbal jabs and flirtatious body language. He thought he’d read everything right, but Drift didn’t want to push and risk losing this, just this, which was already so precious in his life.

 

But he’d been right, and there was a note of triumph in his spark when suddenly, after so-calmly closing his office door behind them, Ratchet grabbed his wrists and dragged him forward into a hungry kiss.

 

Drift gasped, but he wasn’t surprised for long. That victorious feeling warmed his spark as he grasped tightly to Ratchet’s shoulders, pressing their frames close together as he returned the kiss. In no time, they were pawing at each other, hands as hungry as their mouths, Drift’s field flaring and playing with Ratchet’s. Electric crackles where they intermingled sent energy jumping over their plating, filling Drift’s circuits with static heat.

 

Incredibly, they both seemed to have the same idea -- or at least, they moved together like they were of one mind. That didn’t make the way they stumbled through the few chairs in front of Ratchet’s desk any more graceful. Drift chuckled into the kiss, pulling an amused grunt from Ratchet’s vocalizer. It was unsteady, stumbling forward (or backwards, in Drift’s case), but Drift couldn’t care to break away from the kiss or the embrace… and it didn’t seem like Ratchet was willing to, either.

 

And in any case, they managed.

 

Drift gasped when the backs of his legs hit the edge of Ratchet’s desk, but it soon turned into another laugh, his optics glimmering intently as he sat up on the desk and dragged Ratchet close. The next kiss was no less hungry or hot, making Drift’s engine rumble as he slipped his arms around Ratchet’s neck. 

 

Ratchet pressed closer, his hands trailing down to Drift’s waist, spiraling warmth underneath the plating at his touch. With that, Drift couldn’t resist hooking his legs around Ratchet’s hips and tugging him even closer.  _ Intimate _ , even, considering how warm his panels were, pressed to the medic’s plating.

 

Primus. They’d barely even started and already he couldn’t get enough!

 

Drift felt the medic’s hand against his hot panels -- and he didn’t think he’d ever released them so quickly. He wasn’t even ashamed; when Ratchet huffed a soft laugh against his lips, Drift only grinned in return. They’d spent enough time dancing around each other already, hadn’t they?

 

Ratchet seemed to agree, because he didn’t hesitate in playing with Drift’s equipment, teasing the head of his half-extended spike and dipping low to trace around his valve. “Ratchet!” he hissed, desire overwhelming in the moment.

 

The medic only made a soft hushing sound, kissing down Drift’s jaw as he swiftly plunged two fingers into Drift’s valve. Drift arched his backstruts, squeezing his legs around Ratchet’s frame as he let out a tremulous sound of pleasure. With as fired up as he was, it clearly wasn’t hard for Ratchet to quickly find sweet spots of nodes to touch and rub and --  _ frag. _

 

Though even as lost as he was in sensation, Drift didn’t miss the tremble of Ratchet’s plating against his own. Humming, he squeezed his valve more purposefully around the gently thrusting and probing fingers, and the answering shiver and gasp against his audio made him grin again.

 

“Hey doc,” he murmured, raspy with pleasure.

 

Ratchet swallowed. “What?”

 

Drift rolled his hips the best he could, sitting on the desk, and squeezed his valve down again. Ratchet grunted; Drift chuckled roughly. “Did you turn up the sensitivity in your fingers on purpose?”

 

The medic sputtered, but Drift was laughing, bright and clear again. “Don’t laugh at me,  _ kid _ ,” he finally managed.

 

“Mm, I’m not,” Drift hummed. He repeated his earlier motion, earning another shiver from Ratchet (and a third finger in his valve). “It’s  hot.”

 

Ratchet grumbled unintelligibly under his intakes, but if anything, his pace became more spirited. It was hard to keep teasing Ratchet intentionally when he was caught up seeking  _ more --  _ the swift, firm pace of his fingers in Drift’s valve, the incidental grind of his spike between them, Ratchet's other hand tight on his hip, keeping him where he was.

 

As if he were going anywhere.

 

Ratchet kissed his audio, pulling a soft, pleading moan out of the swordsmech. Ratchet had turned his hand a little, pressed his thumb against the anterior node above his valve, and  _ oh _ he was close now. He called out Ratchet’s name again, clinging to him, panting until Ratchet kissed him on the lips again, muffling his next moan. And Primus, did he taste good.

 

The medic shuddered against him again, kissing him with hunger, everything in his actions pushing and encouraging Drift to overload -- and then he was there, helm thrown back, Ratchet's name on his lips again as charge burst through his field and frame, bathing them both in warmth and bliss.

 

Ratchet still trembled against him when his senses returned to normal, and Drift blinked his optics, peering down his frame, then up at Ratchet again.

 

“Did you overload from that, too?” he murmured.

 

Ratchet scoffed, pulling his hand away and eliciting a shudder from Drift. “Not quite.”

 

“Hm… what a shame,” Drift nearly crooned, before grabbing that hand and licking a swath of lubricant off those fingers. Ratchet's entire frame went tense.

 

“Drift…”

 

He barely paused from ‘cleaning’ Ratchet's hand this way. “Yes?” 

 

Whatever Ratchet had been about to say dissolved into a mutter, his optics glued on Drift, and his mouth, and his gentle fingers rubbing into the seams at his wrist.

 

Excellent. Clearly pleased as could be, Drift continued, even after it was obvious all the lubricant from his valve was gone. Having Ratchet shiver against him and suppress one soft moan after another was… quite the rush. His charge peaked quickly, as worked up as he'd apparently been from Drift’s overload, and Drift shivered in an echo of it, his valve clenching on nothing as secondary whorls of charge teased his plating.

 

Ratchet’s lips parted, panting softly as he leaned their helms together. “Frag,” he grunted.

 

Drift chuckled. He had to agree, and yet… “Meet me in my habsuite, off shift?”

 

“...You’re on.”

 

The brief smirk that crossed Ratchet's lips would definitely stick in his processors the rest of the day.

**Author's Note:**

> visit me on [@prowlish](https://twitter.com/prowlish) on twitter!! :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [entanglement](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10869441) by [prowlish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prowlish/pseuds/prowlish)




End file.
